


In the Light

by mewties (icantbelieveitsnotmeulin)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Crushes, F/M, Pre-Relationship, Talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-22
Updated: 2016-07-02
Packaged: 2018-06-03 09:34:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6605728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icantbelieveitsnotmeulin/pseuds/mewties
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cullen finds the Inquisitor in a rare quiet moment to herself, and finds himself ruining it for the chance to talk to her. The Inquisitor doesn't seem to mind, insisting he keep her company. They could both swear the Maker made light so it could shine upon the other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Of Sunbeams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 7/2/16 - minor edits made to Chapter 1!

    Cullen was sometimes told that his hurried gait was like that of a charging druffalo. And while he’d scoffed and brushed it off like he did most of these things, he began to see it as he rounded corners and couriers practically jumped out of his path. He realized, with tired amusement, that they likely assumed he took no notice of anything but the goal ahead of him. In truth, he was ever and painfully aware of the things going on around him. Past events and trained ears and the paranoia of lyrium withdrawal made sure of that.

    One of Josephine’s messengers almost dropped their papers when he opened the door from her office to the main hall. They were new, and Josephine would likely scold them for lacking poise if she found out. An Orlesian dandy followed him with his eyes as Cullen passed, no doubt spreading some ridiculous gossip from lips hidden behind a hand. A spy of Leliana’s practically brushed the wall past him as he entered the door to the spymaster’s tower. Dorian was absent from his alcove, but another figure sat there, curled up in a tall-backed chair -

    _Wait._ He stopped in his tracks, and took a few steps backwards. No, not just another figure, the _Inquisitor’s_ figure, subtly in plain view and easy to miss, all at once. She had her back up against one of the chair’s wings, her long legs tucked up to the side. Her knees came about level with her chest, and she had propped her book up against them. Her left hand hovered over a page as her eyes kept scanning, and as she turned it, he watched her tuck a lock of hair behind her right ear. Sunlight from the window hit her hair, practically giving her a bright halo amidst the auburn. She looked so serene in that moment, like this was the way she was always meant to be. As Inquisitor, he was sure she rarely got such time to herself, and he of all people knew how valuable some time to oneself could be. Yet he found himself stepping towards her and clearing his throat.

    “Inquisitor?”

    She practically fell out of her chair with a start, and scrambled to look up at the person who had addressed her. He felt something tug as her lips opened into a wide smile.

    “Cullen!” She greeted him as warmly as the sunlight looked on her. She sat back up smoothly and gestured to the alcove’s other chair. “Please, sit down.”

    He set the papers in his hand down on a nearby stack of books and acquiesced, settling himself down in the chair as comfortably as he could. She’d picked up the book she was reading and held it with both hands as she faced him. It was larger than he realized, some thick tome bound in dark mauve leather. He wasn’t familiar with it.

    “Enjoying a little light reading?” He asked, tearing his eyes from the cover to meet her curious gaze. He tried to keep his tone playful, and try was always the key word for him. But it must have been sufficient, because she laughed as she set the book off to the side.

    “Dorian recommended this to me. He called it ‘the most _rose_ -colored, _ridiculously_ dramatized, and all-around overdone history of Tevinter I’d ever read.’” Yes, Cullen could envision Dorian saying something like that. Her inflections were spot-on, too.

    “And has it been?” He asked.

    “Well, unless Andraste requested to be burned in the pyre Herself, I’d say he’s right!”

    He chuckled at this, a low sound that stuck around the center of his throat instead of flowing out like hers. She glanced at her fingers and then out the window, her expression the standard, cordial one that suited the Inquisitor. He worried if perhaps she was tired of his presence and was too polite to say anything.

    He cleared his throat again, looking down at his knees. “I apologize, Inquisitor. I am selfishly intruding upon what little time alone you have.” He pushed up from the chair, ready to excuse himself, until she placed her hand on top of his. His head whipped up in his confusion.

    “You’re not intruding at all, Cullen. Please, stay and talk.” Her gaze, her voice, her hand, were all gentle, yet he felt almost compelled to obey. He slowly sank back into the chair, and she gestured to one of the book stacks. “Unless...that was something important?” She asked it with genuine concern. His eyes darted over to where she was pointing: the stack with his papers on top.

    “What? No!” He answered, perhaps a little too hastily. Her brows knitted in confusion, and he scrambled to reduce any suspicions she might have. “That….can be taken care of later.” He settled himself in the chair more, folding his hands and placing them on the left armrest. “I would...much rather have a relaxed talk with you, Inquisitor.”

    She laughed, amicably so, at his response. “Well, if this is relaxed, then perhaps you should call me by name?” Was that a lump forming in his throat? He tried to swallow past it.

    “I...of course.” He hesitated. “...Rosanna.” Something in his chest tightened. He scanned her face for a reaction. She looked...relieved?

    “Thank you,” she replied. They stared at each other in silence for a few seconds. A flush crept up Cullen’s neck as he realized what he was doing, and he turned away, rubbing the back of his head.

    “So, then...did Dorian lend you his space just so you could read his history book?” Cullen asked, trying to regain some sense of conversation. She turned to look out the window, a faint bit of pink on her cheeks that wasn’t there before.

    “No, actually, he offered me use of it a while ago.” She kept looking out at the Frostbacks as she continued. “He said if I stayed very still, perhaps no one would notice me amongst the dusty old books.” She repeated his words with clear amusement. “But,” she added, turning back to him, “I suppose I was no match for our Commander’s observant eye.”

    He almost told her that he was always, in the back of his mind, looking for her. He stopped himself quickly enough. Instead, he told her, “I’m sure it was just luck.”

    Her honest smile was beautiful. “That’s good! I had only just taken him up on it, and I have so much more to get through.” She patted a stack of books near the window.

    “Maker’s breath! Are those all Tevinter history?” He peered at the spines.

    “No, of course not!” She spoke in earnest over her laughter. “They’re all recommendations, from our friends.” She counted them out on long, uncalloused fingers. “Varric gave me a copy of his latest manuscript, Vivienne offered me a book on Orlesian etiquette, I borrowed a book on the Wardens from Blackwall, and Cassandra has _insisted_ upon me reading her-”

    Cullen groaned loudly as he recognized the book on the bottom. “Oh, don’t tell me, she has you trying to read Varric’s blasted romance serial, too.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, so he didn’t see as she raised her eyebrows.

    “Trying to read….too?” She repeated it slowly and with heavy disbelief. “Do you mean to tell me you’ve read Varric’s romance books?”

    Cullen scoffed, adjusting in his chair. “I was practically _forced_ !” He sighed, feeling tired from the very memory. “I had asked our Lady Seeker for something to help keep my mind off my....discomfort, one night, and she nearly shoved one of the books into my hands!” He crinkled his nose. “She called it one of her ‘guilty pleasures’...I suppose I didn’t know just how guilty it _was_.”

    Rosanna laughed lightly. “Varric already warned me they weren’t very good. But after telling Varric her secret love of them, I felt like I owed her! And she seemed so delighted to offer it to me, I couldn’t say no.”

    “Just you wait, you’ll regret it in time.” He leaned forward more. “There’s this moment in the second one-”

    A spark of amusement danced brighter in her eyes. “You read the second one?”

    Cullen settled back in his chair, growing a bit mottled. “...Yes. Well, as you said, Lady Cassandra’s enthusiasm can be difficult to contend with.”

    Rosanna slid the Tevinter book back into her lap, turning page by page to get back to her place. Not looking up from it, she asked, “And did that stop you from telling her you didn’t like it?”

    He snorted with disgust. “Of course not! I told her _exactly_ what I thought of them, and she just handed me another.” He gestured frustratedly with his left hand.

    “Do you always have trouble refusing a lady’s request?” She asked, slipping a strip of fabric between the pages of the mauve tome. For a brief moment, Cullen recalled a point back in Haven when the Inquisitor had asked him if all Templars took a vow of chastity. This time, however, he would not be caught off-guard. He carefully worded his answer to be truthful while not terribly damning.

    “Only the ones I greatly admire,” He murmured. She looked up in surprise, and he found himself taking in her face again.

    Her lips were parted ever so slightly, likely from the shock of his nevertheless bold reply. Perhaps too bold. Was she upset? He looked back up and oh, Maker, her eyes were so _captivating_ , a beautiful brown that searched through his own for...something? He wasn’t terribly sure what. What he did know was he could kiss her, it would be as simple as leaning forward...he started leaning forward…

    He caught himself quickly, gripping the armrests to come to a more immediate stop. The way she was sitting, she was closer than he’d realized. If he’d drifted a second longer, it could've been dangerous. And he didn’t know if he could forgive himself such an indiscretion. Her shoulders fell, though he hardly noticed as he thought up a hasty excuse for his action.

    “My apologies, Inquisitor, I...just felt a little lightheaded.” He touched his forehead for emphasis. The whole of her immediately radiated concern. She placed a hand on his knee and he swore his heart shot into his throat.

    “Are you alright?” She kept her voice level despite her mild alarm. “If you need to rest-”

    He wondered what he ever did to deserve such kindness. “I am fine, Inquisitor,” he replied with all the reassurance he could muster. “I have had worse.” That seemed to put her at ease, as she slid back in her chair. The distance between them was better, especially for him, since what he’d told her was a lie. The issue at hand was that he thought of her far more often than appropriate, and it had never been worse.


	2. Of Radiance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen is not the only one finding himself dazzled. Rosanna just hopes he reads the meaning in her words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! Been kinda busy and hopping about other little projects. In The Light is finished now!
> 
> Also, I made some minor edits to Chapter 1, so feel free to read back even if you did before!

    He looked like a scene from a novel.

    The late afternoon sunshine filtered in beautifully through the window. It gave him a warm back glow, enough to blur his edges, soften the metal on his arms and the weary lines ever-present on his face. It turned the tips of his hair translucent, touchable, should she just reach out. He was gold, rich and warm and decadent.

    She would have happily carried on in her observations if he hadn’t spoken again. Perhaps he was enjoying the being the one asking questions for once. No matter the reason, Rosanna hardly minded the distraction from her pleasure readings.

    “Inquisitor, if I may ask…” He rolled the query around in his mouth; she saw it in the clench of his jaw. “...have you tried reading these in your own chambers?” He gestured to the book still on her lap. “I would think it would afford you better privacy, and comfort.”

    Rosanna smiled, folding her hands over the tome. “Well, Commander, I simply thought the Inquisitor should strive to be available to her people. I can hardly do that holed up in my private room.” His eyes widened with a certain awe. She couldn’t stop herself from chuckling as she moved the Tevinter book back onto the pile with the others. “Though it hardly helps that when I’m alone in there, I get too comfortable and end up falling asleep.” She patted the arm of Dorian’s chair. “It’s much harder to nod off out here.”

    Chatter flowed down from above, from Leliana’s spies and ravens alike. Cullen glanced upward. “I can see why,” He commented, a dry hint to his tone.

    “Perhaps I could read in my personal chambers if I had someone there with me,” She added. Sometimes the quiet presence of another was all she needed to stay awake in even the most comfortable of furniture. Given they weren’t a part of the comfort, of course.

    “Is that so?” Cullen mused quietly. He quickly cleared his throat and fell back into formalities. “Regardless, Inquisitor, it is...quite admirable to see the thought and care you put into the Inquisition. You’ve done so well, despite us basically _throwing_ you into it.” The look he gave her was apologetic. She had been told, back then, that the decision had been unanimous. It had also not been communicated to her ahead of time. Unexpected, yes, but she felt she was coming into it nicely, for a middle daughter expected to marry and do nothing more.

    She hadn’t failed to notice his persistent use of her title again. _That_ was one thing that bothered her. Since the start of all this, she had been “Herald,” or “Inquisitor.” It was nice to be “Rosanna” again, even if just for a moment. It made her feel more human.

    She gathered her thoughts, trying to come up with an appropriate response to Cullen’s praise. “The Inquisition means a lot to its people and to the world.” Her reply had a polished smoothness; it fell off her tongue with a poise that would have made her old finishing teacher proud. “I want to live up to that.”

    He inhaled slowly. The set of his eyebrows and the slight upturn on one corner of his mouth told her he expected something like this. Rosanna supposed she’d always been a tad predictable. Cullen let his breath back out at the same metered pace.

    “Regardless.” He glanced away, leaning forward enough to straighten his back. “...after the suspicions against you at Haven were cleared, you could have returned to the Marches.” He looked back to her. “You didn’t have to stay.” His gaze was too open, too vulnerable, it tore at her chest in ways that didn’t need assistance. She filled in what he really meant. _‘You could have left us all behind.’_ It caught her off-guard, and she struggled to form a sentence.

    “...I could hardly abandon the world I live in,” she finally managed to say. He nodded, slowly and with an understanding weary beyond his years.

    “I suppose you’re right.” He sat back, resigned, and stared off into the distance.

    She set her hand gently on the back of his, and he looked first at it, then to her. In moments like this, his face grew so _expressive_. Trepidation and curiosity ran rampant in his eyes. He waited with baited breath for whatever she would say next. He was so nervous it was almost adorable, like watching a very large nug.

    “I’m glad I stayed,” she said, barely raising her voice. She kept her words general, should anyone overhear, but she noticed the dip of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed. She moved her hand slightly, gliding her fingertips along the back of his glove. It was sincere, wholehearted, she hoped he realized that past the flirtation. All the people she’d met here, the ones who came to Skyhold with her, they were coming to mean so much. Now came her turn to practically perch in her chair, the feeling of fluttering wings in her stomach. After what felt like hours, he opened his mouth to speak.

    “I-”

    “ _There_ you are, Commander!” True to her title, Leliana had managed to come up to them completely undetected. She stood at the entry to the alcove, her feet apart and hands on her hips. She only glanced at Rosanna in acknowledgement before continuing her admonishment. “When my courier told me Josie sent her documents with you, I began to wonder if you got lost beyond your office!” She was trying - and failing - to stop an amused smirk from spreading across her face.   

    Before Cullen could start explaining, Rosanna cut in. “My apologies, Leliana. I insisted Cullen keep me company.” She swore she saw the spymaster outright _grinning_ before giving her a short bow at the waist.

    “You needn’t apologize, Inquisitor.” Ah, there was that Orlesian disposition again. She wasn’t sure which Leliana she wanted in this situation. “However, I hope you understand I must be taking your conversation partner.”

    Rosanna nodded. “I understand.” Cullen stood, straightening himself, and grabbed the papers he set on a book stack what felt like ages ago. She inclined her head in his direction. “Thank you for indulging me, Cullen.”

    He crossed an arm in front of his waist. “It is always a pleasure, Inquisitor.” With that he turned, following Leliana out of the alcove, and left towards the spymaster’s roost. Rosanna sighed at her newfound lack of company. She supposed she could get back to reading. After all, that was what she’d come here to do! She gingerly turned the Tevinter book back to the page she’d marked and picked out where she’d left off.

_‘And so His Grace, the true Divine, was elected -’_

    His words still hung in the air, pressing down upon her with the weight of everything he did and didn’t say. Doubly so for the latter. It was _stifling_.

_‘- was elected under proper -’_

    What _had_ he been about to say? Would he have just echoed her statement back at her, some demure comment of gratitude that she hadn’t up and left? Or would he have said what must’ve been floating in both their minds?

_‘- under proper Chantry council -’_

    No, he wouldn’t have done that. They had been doing this dance for a while now, but he’d only returned the steps after Haven. He toed the line between the two of them very carefully, never crossing it. She wondered if he knew how much his face could give away.

_‘- Chantry council, marking the start of -”_

    Rosanna shut the book with an annoyed huff. This thing was basically useless to her right now, with her preoccupation so clearly fixed. She slid the romance serial out from the bottom of the pile. At least it would be in the same vein as her wandering thoughts.

    This time she didn’t even register what was written. Her lack of concentration had her eyes floating over the pages, occasionally catching bits that stuck out. There were long, lustful glances across rooms ( _Wondering if she was just imagining the feeling of eyes burning into the back of her head as she left his chambers_ )...immodest notes about someone’s features made by the person mooning for them ( _Tiny things she noticed like the set of his shoulders when he stood upright, how his body got lost in the shadows of his mantle. She tried not to make the extra attention she paid him over the war table obvious_ )...there was even a kiss, grossly described as something like trying to wrestle each other’s tongues. Rosanna grimaced, nose crinkling. Maker, had Varric never kissed someone before?

    No, a good kiss was something entirely different. There was a build-up as one drew close, a growing anticipation for what would come. Lips would drag and push against each other, coming together and trying to lead the other person along when it came time to pull back. She’d slide her hand back across his stubble and along his strong jawline, the texture rough but a little exhilarating. He’d wrap his arms around her, pull her close, like he’d conceal her details in his mantle, too. And neither of them would pull away until it dawned on them that they’d plunged right over the deep end, and there was no going back.

    Rosanna sighed wistfully, leaning against her hand and toward one side of the chair. She knew that wouldn’t happen anytime soon, not with how cautious Cullen was. He could be confident and brazen when it came to a battlefield, but romance, apparently, set him on his toes. And she wasn’t about to lead a harsh offensive; the Commander had been through much already.

    Still, she had come to grips with the fact that reading, at this point, was absolutely pointless. She plopped _Swords and Shields_ back on the book pile with a disappointed thud. So much for trying to make any progress with the book pile today. And any attempt at getting work done would likely lead to much of the same. She had to find a distraction. Perhaps she could get Varric started on one of his Hawke stories, or she could see if Bull and the Chargers were in the taverns to share a drink and some chatter. Either were good at drawing one in and lifting one’s spirits. Or maybe she’d talk with Cassandra. Even when frustrated, Cassandra seemed to soften around her rather fast.

    Taking a deep breath, Rosanna composed herself as best as possible before leaving her secret hideaway. She would be the Inquisitor again, even if just for the time it took her to find her friends. She paused at the edge of the alcove, glancing towards the stairs up to Leliana’s roost. For a moment, she thought about waiting for Cullen’s exit, to see if he’d finish what he was going to say before. She knew better, though. He’d tell her what he wanted to when he was ready.

    She just prayed to Andraste that it would be soon.


End file.
